


Best Not To Dwell On It

by saaliyah



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Other, Regency Romance, accidental kissing in a linen closet, alcohol mention, crowley is soft, if you know me at all its regency unless proven otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20145118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saaliyah/pseuds/saaliyah
Summary: Pressed tight against Aziraphale and hiding from smiting in what appeared to be a linen closet was as good as any. A few moments passed.“Thanks, I suppose.”“Best not to dwell on it.”





	Best Not To Dwell On It

**Author's Note:**

> this was a drabble posted first on my blog. If you wanna cry about tenderness, follow me on tumblr @saaliyah

“What are you doing here?“ 

Crowley turned around, a small smirk already on his face. It had taken so much bloody work, he would be damned if he didn’t enjoy it. Him. All of this.

Aziraphale stood there, mouth firmly closed and eyebrows furrowed. His hat was held against the belly of his suit. He looked…good. Warm-toned with a slight drunken flush to his cheeks. Crowley would like to place his thumb just so, feel the angel’s head lean against it. It would ground him to the world. He may have been a little inebriated himself, but he had almost given up of finding the angel so. Couldn’t be blamed for partaking in the festivities. Aziraphale certainly had.

He leaned into the archway, “You know how these things are, angel. Absolutely rife for temptations. Couldn’t help myself.” Not that he mentioned the temptation was one of his own persuasion.

“Crowley!” That was his only warning as Aziraphale’s hands were upon his shoulders pushing him back into the hallway, “Keep your voice down.”

“What- “

"I’m not the only one here.” he hissed out.

Oh. Well, that explained the tense manner of his body against the red of his face. This Aziraphale was all nerves, harsh lines, and apprehension. Crowley longed to pull his, not his, but still, his angel back. Cheeky smile and wide eyes._ Loving._

He took a deep breath, “And what exactly is so important that Heaven sent reinforcements to some socialite party?”

“That’s not for you to know.” All the soldier then. Aziraphale softened, taken aback by his own sharp tone. He glanced back at the main room before turning his attention back on Crowley. He still held his shoulders firm. “You know better than that, Crowley.”

Crowley liked to think he didn’t know better about anything, thanks very much. Inebriation only exasperated that idea. After all, he, a demon, had chased an angel across a continent just to see him. Say hello. All because after a few months of sleep, he hadn’t known where to find him. And, well, he’d grown used to his company. His smile. The lines around his eyes. If only he could reach out- Must have been some champagne. 

Not that he would have to go far. Aziraphale was pressed in close, shielding him from the view of the main room. Protecting him? He could hear the sound of his heart creak in response to the thought.

He suddenly felt Aziraphale’s eyes weigh on him. Oh! Had he had his thumbs on the angel’s lapel this whole time? 

“You’re drunk.”

Crowley didn’t move his hands, simply closed his eyes slowly and then straightened to look up at him a little defiant, “So? You’re one to talk.” Aziraphale let out a groan, “Must She really-”

“Aziraphale! Where did that blasted-”

Crowley then became aware of only two things in this Universe. 

Firstly, Aziraphale’s hand sliding down his chest and then around his waist.

Secondly, whatever he had been stood against suddenly disappeared and there was only the weight of Aziraphale’s body pushing him backward. A squawk may have escaped his mouth. May have. 

Definitely did, judging by the single finger pressed against his lips urging silence. The only sound was the door closed behind them and then their breaths, heavy. They didn’t really need to breathe, but every now and then, it seemed only fitting for the situation. 

Pressed tight against Aziraphale and hiding from smiting in what appeared to be a linen closet was as good as any. A few moments passed.

“Thanks, I suppose.”

“Best not to dwell on it.”

They hadn’t moved, but Crowley thought that might kill him more than any movement. Their eyes were locked, Aziraphale’s finger still a soft pressure against his mouth. Their hands-on collars and hips and surrounding. Crowley wanted him whole. Slow and softly unraveled. His mouth parted just a touch. The angel’s finger dragged down his bottom lip and turned his wrist to cradle Crowley’s jaw.

“My dear, I am… I am glad to see you.” he swallowed, “even given the circumstances. I had not thought you would wake for some time.” There was a sadness in his voice that Crowley felt familiar but could not quite place.

“The feeling is…” he really could not concentrate, with Aziraphale’s thumb brushing lightly back and forth, lie, lie, _he should lie_, “I mean to say…I was hoping…To see you. I mean.” Well. That was unfortunately honest. 

But it did have the result of Aziraphale’s eyes opening up, the little creases forming maps. A clear lack of active service angel, thank Someone. He tilted his head in curiosity, “Did you really? My, I did think I had someone watching over me, but I had assumed Raphael or Uriel checking in.”

Crowley felt himself redden past the point of flushed, “I didn’t say I’d gone looking for you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

There was a thickness to the air suddenly. The space felt too small and quite vast all at once. He longed for an escape.

He wished Aziraphale to hold him down to the very earth. 

The angel leaned his head in closer, still tilted, “I do wish…” Under the influence of good drink and divine company, Crowley had a miracle brimming below him, ready for any request. His eagerness to be alert had led his footing to shift, however and the slight bob of his head had brushed his closed mouth past Aziraphale’s lips.

It was a good thing he needn’t breathe. He didn’t believe he could for anything at the moment. The hand curved around his jaw relaxed instantaneously and a pit formed in the center of his mass, rejection was oncoming, and he hadn’t even meant it, he had a First Kiss planned in his head meticulously to never occur and an accidental pass was nowhere near the description-But then the pressure under his chin came back, soft and hesitant, and there was another kiss, deliberate.

Crowley melted. No match for the entirety of _craving_ that became his body, he pulled into the kiss by Aziraphale’s lapel still at hand and held steady there by a firm hand in the small of his back.

He could feel the angel’s lips spread into a loose smile against his own. Their bodies didn’t part, just stayed in constant orbit of one another.

“You’re very good at that, you know.”

“Mhm?”

“Knowing what I’d like most.”

“Well. Demon. Desires. You know.”

A low chuckle made its way from his belly, “Right.”


End file.
